Riordan wasn’t so sure he could do this anymore. Vera looked far more intimidating when she was dressed for business instead of wearing a nightgown, though her demeanor hadn’t changed much. She embodied poise and experience, her sharp blue eyes flashing as she regarded him over the simple dining table. Her expression was stern in stark contrast to the smile lines that framed her aging face.

 

They hadn’t spoken since the first night he’d been there, not directly. He’d relayed text messages with her for Lucinda and knew she kept tabs on him. But to see eye to eye and not pretend the other was air hadn’t happened since his arrival.

 

She seemed content to sit there in stony silence, just as stubborn as Norris said or perhaps a power move to make him break first. Riordan remembered Norris’ words though, his eyes flickering to the old man leaning against the wall nearby, and broke the silence.

 

“What do you need to trust me?” Riordan asked, surprised at the question that emerged instead of his intended status report, “Not with your pack, but with the fight against the death mages.”

 

“You are a reckless mercenary, Mr. Kincaid. You put my people in danger at every turn. I can hardly imagine anything that would make me trust you.” Vera’s voice was an odd mix of grandmotherly disapproval and powerful businesswoman. She was someone who operated with favors and strings, Riordan remembered, tying people up gently unless need required her to strangle them with those same cords.

 

Riordan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment of her point but countered with, “Your people aren’t trained the way I am, Pack Leader Hunt. I am out of practice and accidentally treated them in a crisis as I would have my old team. I apologize. Fortunately, the Department of Magic agents you called in seem perfectly capable of handling my methods and bridging the gap.”

 

She leaned back, regarding him carefully with lips pressed into a thin line, her rosy cheeks flushing darker with a flash of anger. He’d hit a mark. Was it that he had implied the agents were better than her own people for this issue or that he hadn’t backed down? Or that he’d apologized and admitted fault at all?”

 

“Those agents left you behind all the same,” she pointed out.

 

“Yes,” Riordan agreed amiably, “Because their mission was one I couldn’t help with properly. And because, as much as I hate to admit it, I am more of a threat in the field than an asset unless the death mages no longer need me to complete their ritual. They gave me the important work of collating the data we have already, which makes us more prepared to see the whole of their organization so we can be sure to uproot it entirely. Plus, we’ll be ready to handle both the victims and the survivors.”

 

Vera leaned forward. “Survivors?”

 

Riordan snorted a small laugh. “Surely you don’t think all their victims were used in the killing tree ritual? The power for that is all tied up until it’s finished. That means they have been killing or bleeding someone for everyday power. It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s their own members, honestly. Cult mentality fucks you up even without death magic compulsions behind it.”

 

He wasn’t sure he’d thought about that consciously before he said it, but it was true. All the death that went into the ritual and it was just a fucking side project. An important one, given it was the key to Phenalope’s plans for godhood, but not important to the day to day operations of whatever else they were doing. As Riordan had seen with Quinn, every spell cost power from a well that didn’t regenerate unless fed from the outside with blood and death. He doubted Phenalope had anywhere near the skill and efficiency that Quinn demonstrated. In fact, Riordan knew from their fight that she wasn’t even as good with the spells she’d practiced. She had to be getting more power from somewhere.

 

Especially since his fight with her had been draining. Riordan wondered if anyone had died today as the cost to his incomplete victory. The more desperate they made her, the more damage Phenalope would be driven to inflict to catch back up. To make them desperate in turn. The power hunger of a death mage manifested in many ways and they were making her feel out of control. She’d want that back.

 

Vera settled back in her seat again. This time when she looked at him, Riordan thought she was really looking at him. Not who she thought he was or wished he was, but Riordan as he was in that moment of time. Tired, confused, determined. A fighter and a survivor. He might be down, but wasn’t out. He met her gaze, willing her to see him and know that shutting him out was the worst choice she could make if she wanted to put a leash on that recklessness of his.

 

She started to bristle, shoulders going back and glaring, when Norris cleared his throat and raised a brow at her. Vera transferred her gaze to her ex-husband for a second and then let the fight stream out of her in one long sigh. 

 

“I’ll stop excluding you, but you answer to the agents. Whatever they decide is best to handle this, you do. You understand?” Vera announced, passing the verdict on Riordan.

 

It was more than he had hoped for, but less than he wanted. Riordan still nodded. “Understood, ma’am.”

 

She studied him another long moment and then looked away with another sigh, this one very much put upon. “You’d think I’d get used to dealing with men like you as I got older. Too stubborn for your own good.”

 

“The same could be said about you, ma’am,” Riordan replied levely, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

Standing up and moving over to the covered dishes still on the side bar, Vera gave a very unladylike snort. “I’m just as stubborn as I need to be. The world isn’t a very forgiving place for women with delusions of authority.”

 

“The western world does like its patriarchy,” Riordan agreed. He’d seen alternatives in other countries and other times, but his lifetime had seen a definite fight for women to be taken seriously, coming out of a period of oppression and minimization of women. Vera had come by her fire naturally and then stoked it with the ashes of hundreds of bitter lesser men who would think to control her.

 

Riordan thought that Vera would have been able to debate Phenalope on her feminist ideals quite eloquently, at least before the death mage had descended into madness. He was also glad that Vera had had Norris for so many years, someone powerful enough to not feel threatened by her strength and to respect her. The old man certainly was happy with his retirement, for all that he’d never be a doormat for anyone.

 

“The world has changed a lot in my long lifetime,” Vera said wryly, serving herself up some dinner before returning to her seat. “I can only imagine how it will continue to change after I am gone.” She took a bite and practically moaned in delight. She flashed a smile at Norris, giving Riordan a glimpse of the woman she was behind her role as leader. “This is really good, Norry.”

 

They left it at that, a new truce of sorts. Norris and Vera made small talk as they settled down for dinner, just inconsequential things about the pack. Someone had gotten in trouble at school. Someone else was complaining about not getting enough support on their business in a changing economy. Another had a good crop of cherries ripening on the trees. Simple little things that reminded Riordan that life went on in a hundred different ways, untouched by the tragedy and drama that was consuming him. Jealousy stabbed him, making dinner sit like lead when he swallowed it down.

 

They were joined not long after they started eating by the pair of agents and their shifter guard liaison. All three looked a bit drained. Quinn in particular looked like death warmed over and fell on the food like a starving man, leaving the others to start a casual debriefing of their day.

 

“They call themselves the Daughters of the Divine Feminine,” Ahlgren explained. “They started as a relief organization for survivors of domestic abuse according to the local authorities. Even now the police seem to think of them as a pretty positive group for handling traumatized women, though there were definitely some sexist attitudes at a few of the places we stopped. The relief organization still exists as a subset of their group and has ties to the local police, which meant we had to be careful with what we asked and how.”

 

Vera frowned at that. “They have spies in the local law enforcement?”

 

“Seems so, though I doubt any of them know what the Daughters are really up to,” Ahlgren affirmed. “Still, it probably makes it easier to figure out who to target if you are on gossiping terms with different police precincts. I was directed to a woman named Gloria Robinson as the main contact for the relief organization. She was described to me as a blonde bombshell.”

 

“I’ve heard the name Gloria,” Riordan put in. “She seems to be their logistics person for the criminal side of things and their ceremony leader for the cult side of things.”

 

“Busy woman,” Billy put in with a deep rumbling voice. “She’ll be someone we need to stop then. The smart ones are the most dangerous.”

 

“Any chance that Gloria is the real name for Phenalope?” Ahlgren asked, turning towards Riordan.

 

Riordan shook his head. “Not likely. I’ve heard her mentioned at the same time as a separate boss or prophet, who is probably Phenalope. Additionally, I’ve seen Phenalope now. She’s not blonde and she’s getting too crazy to manage logistics properly. I’d bet that Phenalope is the one taking on the magical risks and powers and Gloria is managing the mundane assets like the cult and the police in her name.”

 

Ahlgren tapped his fingers on the table, frown etched deep into his severe face. He was displeased at having more than one major threat to contain. They already had two death mages and now a more mundane criminal mastermind.

 

“What’s the chances that Gloria practices death magic as well?” the agent asked, thinking through the issues.

 

Quinn fielded that one. “I’d say that it is likely she at least knows about how to do the death magic, since our primary death mage has already shared that knowledge with at least one other in the inner circle. As smart and crafty as she is seeming, it’s possible Gloria declined it to watch the others for side effects, rather than taking that gamble herself. At the very least, she’s seeming too stable to be deep in it if she does practice.”

 

“I hate smart enemies,” Billy grumbled. Norris and Vera favored this with agreeing nods of their own.

 

In truth, Riordan was almost relieved that there was someone smart and crafty in the inner circle of the cult. It cut down on the impulsive, emotion-driven responses that he feared from Phenalope. She might feel she is beyond justice or retribution already, but a smart second would be able to recognize that for the delusion it was and reign it back. Normally that would be worse, but it bought them time for their own response and hopefully limited collateral damage.

 

Hopefully. Riordan wouldn’t count on it.